


Torrent

by d_b_w



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Desperation Play, Exhibitionism, Frottage, M/M, Pining, Voyeurism, Watersports, internalized kinkshaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-01-12 03:35:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18438209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_b_w/pseuds/d_b_w
Summary: Rocket was not, absolutely not, coming up with increasingly transparent ploys to delay Thor when he had to take a leak, and then lurking, listening outside the head when he finally made it inside.





	Torrent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionessvalenti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/gifts).



Rocket was not, absolutely not, coming up with increasingly transparent ploys to delay Thor when he had to take a leak, and then lurking, listening outside the head when he finally made it inside. Only a sick fuck would do something like that, and Rocket got his rocks off in perfectly normal ways involving lubricated orifices and thrusting, not, not, bathroom activities.

Rocket banged his head against the bulkhead next to the head door. Softly, so its inhabitant wouldn’t hear.

Okay, so maybe Rocket was coming up with increasingly transparent ploys to delay Thor when he had to take a leak, and then lurking, listening outside the head when he finally made it inside. But he was doing it because it was funny, see, because somehow under that already obscene set of muscles that made up his abdomen, Thor managed to fit a bladder the size of a small shuttle’s fuel tank. Thor had been going for two minutes straight already, with the force of a water canon, and Rocket was totally going to mock him for it. Mock him mercilessly.

Rocket banged his head against the bulkhead again. He did not reach down to adjust himself in his pants.

On the other side of the bulkhead, the thunderous stream began to slow. Rocket felt himself twitch, straining to hear Thor’s quiet, relieved sigh; then he fled.

* * *

Thor’s throat worked as he threw back another glass of ale, then slammed it down on the tabletop. There was a twinkle in his eye as it met Rocket’s over the forest of empty glasses between them.

“Another!” he shouted, loud enough to be heard over the din in the bar, then pushed Rocket’s half-full glass closer to him. “Come, rabbit, you are falling behind.”

Rocket was already plenty buzzed: on the way that Thor’s voice seemed to reverberate through the smoky air between them and straight into his chest; on the way every casual touch Thor laid on him, his shoulder, his back, the sensitive spot just behind the crown of his head between his ears, warmed him against the winter night outside; on the way Thor had been shifting in his seat for the last hour, knee jiggling against the underside of the table, hand sometimes sneaking down to rub the top of his thigh when Rocket knew it wanted to be buried just a little higher.

Rocket had been to the head three times already, after far fewer drinks than Thor, and Thor hadn’t gone once.

Rocket needed to go again, actually, felt that tight, uncomfortable pinch in his gut that said he couldn’t wait much longer, but he felt rooted to the spot, unable to take his eyes off Thor for a second.

Someone set another ale in front of Thor, and Thor raised his glass to Rocket. Thor had received his monthly update from New Asgard earlier that day, and they were toasting to every babe born since the last message. Rocket’s liver had learned the hard way that Asgardians were really incredibly fertile.

Rocket looked down again, and his glass was empty. Across the table Thor outright squirmed, and Rocket caught what sounded like a bitten off-whimper. The room spun with the rapid draining of all of Rocket’s blood into his crotch, and he just couldn’t sit there anymore. Muttering something about being right back, he fled back to the head.

Rocket scurried up to one of the lowest-set urinals and wrestled himself out of his pants. For one brief, mad second he was tempted to start tugging, to give in and bring himself off practically in public, but the heavy sound of the door being pushed roughly open shocked some sense back into him, and he took a deep breath to try and relax enough to take care of his other need.

But all that did was fill his lungs with the scent of electricity, and his dick jumped in his hand as he realized that Thor had followed him. Not only followed him, but took up his stance at the next urinal, though it was far too low for his height.

Rocket shuffled closer to the metal receptacle, hoping to hide his arousal.

Rocket couldn’t help but focus on every clank and rustle as Thor unfastened his pants and pulled himself out. Despite his urgency at the table, Thor didn’t sound like he was rushing now, methodically working his various buckles and buttons. There was a drawn-out silence after Thor moved himself into position, Rocket’s ears and nose straining for those first drops; and then came the gusher, like someone had turned on a faucet full-blast, a torrent of urine not even a foot from Rocket’s head, and he shivered in response as his dick throbbed.

His bladder throbbed too, aching to empty alongside Thor’s. But everything in Rocket was locked up tight, too turned on and too aware — of the bar outside, the thin door that separated them from it, the empty urinals that could be filled at any moment, and Thor above all, massive and golden and swallowing up all the air in the room.

Thor groaned, long and low and satisfied, and the flow increased even more, pounding against the metal. It was Rocket’s turn to bite back a whimper. He pushed against his abdomen, hoping to sooth the pain there since he refused to address his arousal, and managed a thin spurt into his own urinal. He felt it travel down his dick, swollen and oversensitive as it was, and it felt so good he pressed harder.

Another spurt, and then another, fast and narrow and a bare trickle compared to Thor’s, but still so relieving. Rocket’s groan joined Thor’s.

Even sputtery and intermittent as it was, Rocket’s stream ended while Thor’s was still going strong. He pressed against his bladder again, to make sure it was truly empty, then tucked himself back away, grateful for how loose his coveralls were, disguising the fact that he hadn’t softened at all. He washed up quickly, focus still on Thor’s continuing gusher. It showed no sign of slowing, and though he wanted to stay, wanted to sneak a peak as he had not ever dared, but the sound of voices approaching reminded him again of just how public they still were.

So he turned tail instead.

* * *

“Eat hot laser, pirate scum!” Rocket shouted as he fired one last blast at their retreating enemy.

He spun in the weapons chair, heart pounding and grinning like a madman. It had been too long since they got into a good old fashioned space battle, with nothing on the line but some loot. Too long since they had an easy victory, no shadow of a greater threat looming, no win turned bittersweet by too many losses. Just unleashing a bit of whoopass on some unredeemed villains.

Thor was grinning too, eye crinkling into deep laugh lines, dimples showing even through his beard. He tilted his head towards the back, a silent invitation, and of course Rocket followed.

But then suddenly they were standing in front of the head and Rocket had to pump the brakes. “Um, Thor, I don’t—”

Thor crouched to meet Rocket’s eyes. His grin had softened into a gentle, knowing smile. “I grow weary of our foreplay, sweet rabbit. My blood is high from battle, and I have not relieved myself in many hours. I would be pleased if you would join me in these facilities so that we might pursue satisfaction together.” Then he nipped gently at the side of Rocket’s snout.

Rocket’s head was spinning. A part of him was tempted to deny everything, maybe sock Thor in the jaw to teach him to mind his own business and keep his obviously baseless conjectures to himself. But Rocket had been trying lately to stop himself from doing that, lashing out when someone got him somewhere tender. And the rest of him really, really wanted to say yes.

“How—” He had to swallow to get some moisture back into his throat. “How long?”

Thor’s grin was blinding. He leaned even closer to whisper in Rocket’s ear. “The alarm woke me from a sound sleep, and I did not stop on my way to the bridge. It has been nearly sixteen hours, by my count. The cat and mouse game in the asteroid field was particularly cruel of you.”

Rocket had to put a hand out to steady himself, dizzy with how fast his blood went south. Thor took it in his, his grip gentle as he stood back to his full height. “Come, sweet Rocket. I truly cannot delay much longer.”

The head was cramped, but clean. As Thor positioned himself in front of the urinal Rocket could see the signs — the stiffness of his gait, the way he was holding his torso unnaturally still, the tense line of his jaw. Still, once he was in position, Thor waited.

“How would you have me?”

For a moment Rocket was frozen, spoilt for choice; then he scrambled into motion. If Thor was offering anything, Rocket would take everything. He used his grip on Thor’s hand to swing up his arm and onto his shoulder, then started attacking the buckles of his armored chestplate. He tossed the pieces back against the door, then stripped the vambraces and tossed them after it. The padded undershirt came next, and Thor helpfully bent an elbow to give Rocket a ledge to stand on as he undid the buttons and pushed it off Thor’s shoulders.

Then Thor was bare to the waist, all his golden skin and excessive muscles on display. Rocket ran his hands over it all, over him, shaking a little with the thrill of having, a thrill he never got tired of.

Thor winced when Rocket’s hands skimmed his bladder, and Rocket couldn’t resist pushing a little harder, trying to wrest one of those shivery groans from him. Instead Thor whimpered, high and pained, his chin sinking to his chest.

“Please—”

Rocket pressed again, just to be a bastard.

Belt, pants, and underwear were unbuckled, unbuttoned, and pushed to the side next, and then Rocket had Thor’s dick in his hands, as big around as his forearm, and longer. As Thor had implied, it was well on its way to fully erect, and as Rocket touched it, learning its dimensions, it grew harder.

Thor chuckled. “That is rather working against my current need.”

Rocket began to stroke in earnest. “I don’t want you to go yet.”

Now Thor groaned. “I cannot— I must— Please, Rocket—”

Rocket pressed again, watched Thor clench his hands into fists, listened to the shift in his breathing as he tried to pant through the urgency.

“Not yet. I wanna enjoy this a little longer.”

Thor nodded. Rocket ran his hands up and down Thor’s erection again, then he gave in to the other thing he’d been wanting to do almost since they met — he stretched up to bury his nose in the crook of Thor’s neck and took a good, deep sniff.

The smell of electricity that drifted around Thor like a perfume was intoxicating up close, sharp and bright and almost painful. Rocket sniffed again, filling his lungs with it. Almost in a trance, he found himself dragging his nose lower, down Thor’s chest and straight into his armpit.

There he smelled more human, sweat and leather, and Rocket sucked that scent in just as deep. It was all Thor, the god and the man, and Rocket was practically salivating at having Thor under him and exposed like this.

Rocket’s perch shifted abruptly, breaking the spell. Rocket glanced down to discover Thor had shifted, bringing his legs together, and the hand that wasn’t supporting Rocket was on the top of his thigh, squeezing.

Rocket twisted to reach down and bat the hand away.

“None of that. I said not yet.”

But as Rocket shifted, his knee pressed into Thor’s bladder. Thor gasped, and below them Rocket heard a splatter as he spilled onto the floor.

They both reached for Thor’s dick to squeeze, Thor’s hand obviously much better sized to pinch it shut. Thor was panting again, but he managed to stop himself after only a few seconds. He let out a breathless laugh.

“I told you I was near my limit, rabbit.”

“Almost. Just a little more.”

Rocket gently pulled Thor’s hand away from his dick, watched it bob unassisted as Thor clenched his muscles against further leaks. He rubbed lightly along its length, memorizing the feel of it in his hands, the heated, delicate skin covering deliciously hardened tissue. Thor had stopped breathing, everything in him held tight. Waiting.

Rocket carefully aimed. “All right. You can let go.”

“Thank you,” Thor breathed, and then he did exactly as Rocket asked.

Up close, expressly permitted to watch, to touch, Thor’s flow was astonishing. Rocket could feel it pounding down the length of his dick, could see where it stretched his hole wide. The angle Thor’s dick was initially pointed at caused significant splashback, and so Rocket adjusted; but it still sounded like Thor’s stream was threatening to drill through the back of the urinal. Rocket shifted a little, leaning into Thor’s bladder again, and the stream grew even stronger; Thor moaned, a rich, blatantly sexual sound, and Rocket wished desperately for another pair of hands, because he wouldn’t let go of Thor’s dick for any amount of money but he was so turned on he thought he might be soaking through his own pants.

Thor moaned again, shifting to widen his stance, starting to relax into his release, and Rocket couldn’t stand it. He was already half-straddling Thor’s forearm; without changing his grip he tilted his hips so that his painfully hard dick could rub against the thick cord of Thor’s muscle, and then he began to thrust. He felt overstimulated to the point of pain, nose still full of Thor’s scent, the fabric of his pants too rough on his dick, but he couldn’t stop, hips twitching in tight, jerky thrusts that wouldn’t mess up his aim.

“Yes, use me, sweet Rocket,” Thor said, twisting his arm just enough so that Rocket could sink more of his weight down onto it. “Come for me, as I piss for you.”

Rocket couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to. He could feel his orgasm barreling down on him like a freight train, could tell he was making some kind of embarrassing whimpering sound but he didn’t care. Thor was still flooding the urinal, stream just as strong as at the start though it had been going for minutes already.

Thor was speaking again. “It feels so good. All this that I was holding for you, finally coming out. Your hands on me at last. Please, I want you to feel this good too.”

Rocket sped his thrusts, so close to his peak. And then he slipped down Thor’s arm, just a few inches, but it was enough that his hand slipped too, down Thor’s length and into his stream.

It was hot — of course it was hot — and it was so dirty, dark yellow and pungent from all that time stored in Thor’s body; Rocket shouted as he came, completely messing his pants and Thor’s arm, mind blissfully blank.

When Rocket came back to himself, Thor was still going, but his stream was finally weakening. It dribbled to a stop, but when Rocket began to shift Thor said “Wait,” and then there was a long spurt, then another. Rocket waited, but after a few seconds Thor touched his back, fingers gentle on Rocket’s shoulders.

“I believe I am finished now.”

And after all that, Rocket felt. . . Shy. He jumped lightly to the floor and moved to the sink, to see how he might salvage his pants, or at least disguise the evidence of what they had just done. Behind him, he heard Thor putting his clothes back together. The room felt ten degrees colder.

After deciding just to splash water all over himself so that at least the stain wasn’t localized, Rocket finally turned back to Thor. He was braced.

But Thor was smiling gently down at him, expression open and happy and maybe just a little sly. Rocket felt himself start to smile in response.

Thor’s voice was warm, and he reached down to take Rocket’s hand again. “Now come with me again. The rest of my plans for today will be pursued far more successfully in a bed.”


End file.
